Black Lives Matter

This week I’ve had several big conversations with friends about the state of our country. Whether on a voice call, video chat, or just an impassioned string of texts, there were almost always tears involved. I know I’m tired and heartbroken, and that’s considering that my lily white skin and the myth of the model minority afford me soooo much privilege. So first and foremost: I’d like to extend all of the support and solidarity I can to the Black community. I know whatever I’m feeling pales in comparison to the hurt, the terror, the body and mind-draining exhaustion you feel in this moment and so many others before. 

I don’t know that I have anything to contribute that hasn’t already been said, but in the interest of being more than a lip-service ally, I’d like to address anyone who in this moment is more critical of the protests and looting than the catalyst for either. As I said to a friend earlier today, try to understand that the Black community is, again, just so tired. They’re exhausted, grieving, pushed to the absolute limits of fear and frustration. To people who ask why they can’t protest peacefully, I beg you to refer to the uproar when Colin took a knee, the anger over aaaaaall those peaceful BLM marches, the indignation when basketball players wore “I can’t breathe” t-shirts on the court. When you have to watch the brutal killing of a black body on the internet over and over in what’s starting to feel like trauma porn and nothing ever changes, you crack. Do I wish the looting wasn’t happening? Absolutely. Is it a thing I condone? No. But do I understand how a group of people have been pushed to this point when they tried everything else? Sure do. You ever snapped when someone pushed your buttons one too many times? You probably have. Now imagine whatever likely lame scenario you just thought of, multiply its severity by 20 million and make the stakes literal life or death.

I have about a thousand other things to say about our nation’s history, cultural appropriation, colorism, internalized racism within the Latinx community, etc, but I’m starting to feel emotional and tongue-tied. I think of one of the people I love most in this world, my tiny toddler nephew, and wonder what I might be driven to do if anyone ever laid a hand on him because he’s brown and I just…. whew. Deep breath.

So instead I’ll go back to old reliable, my lane, my thing: books. Here are some titles that will be of use to you and/or the people around you who want to better understand not just how we got here, but how we’ve kind of always been here. 

And if you, like me, are feeling all the feelings and maybe want to start a meditation or yoga practice (it helps, at least for me), I’ll follow up the book list with a few free/free-ish resources I’ve turned to for some calm.

Bookishly yours,
Vanessa

BOOKS

Me and White Supremacy by Layla F Saad

When They Call You a Terrorist by Asha Bandele and Patrisse Cullors

How to Be an Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi

Between the World and Me by Tanehisi Coates

So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Ollie

White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo

If you can, I encourage you to purchase:

MEDITATION + YOGA

Calm - a great collection of guided meditations, meditation courses, sleep stories, ambient sounds. There’s a free version and a paid version that opens up greater variety. If you would like a free month, let me know and I’ll send you a code.

Liberate Meditation - Meditations specifically for and by BIPOC

Yoga with Adriene - She’s sort of theeee YouTube yoga person. All free, all levels, all varieties and lengths of practice. Whether you’re looking for a 30-day program, a quick 15 min flow, or a practice to loosen your hips or deal with anxiety, she has something for you.